


Shall we show Porthos what we did the other night?

by Sodafly



Category: The Musketeers (2014)
Genre: Anal Sex, Dom/sub Undertones, Facials, Hand Jobs, M/M, Oral Sex, Threesome - M/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-24
Updated: 2014-03-24
Packaged: 2018-01-16 22:09:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,539
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1363471
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sodafly/pseuds/Sodafly
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Well maybe you should show me what I’ve missed.” The pair of them look at him. They look sinful with the neck of their shirts unlaced, legs tangled together, Aramis looking like a devil disguised as the sweetest of angels. Athos tilts his head to the side, curious eyes turning indulgent. </p><p>“What would you like to see first?”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Shall we show Porthos what we did the other night?

**Author's Note:**

> This hasn't been betaed very well because if I look at this any longer I will scream

Three knocks, two fast and the last following a beat later, is the signal that one of the three of them wishes to enter. They have another sequence that included d’Artagnan, but this sequence was theirs and theirs alone. It was mainly used as a safety precaution, if two of them were together in a compromising position and the other wanted to enter, then they were safe to continue whilst the door opened a crack and locked instantly afterwards.

 

Porthos uses the sequence that evening, when the late evening sun is shining but the temperature has cooled, rapping his knuckles on the wood of Aramis’ door. His rooms are on the ground floor at the back corner of the courtyard, the most sheltered of the tiny apartments in the musketeer barracks. The curtains are drawn and windows bolted shut, a clear sign that he has company and seeing as Athos is nowhere to be found, it’s pretty obvious just who that company is. The same sequence of knocks raps against the windowpane, granting Porthos access. The bed is near the window, where as with Athos and Porthos’ rooms, the knock is met with a simple thud against the door as a boot is thrown, or something of the like, across the room. Porthos glances around before testing the locks, opening the door just a crack and slipping through. The double locks fall into place.

 

Aramis is not alone, and Athos is most certainly with him, the two of them lounging in their shirts and trousers on the bed, their mouths otherwise occupied. Athos has an arm thrown over Aramis’ waist, hand slipping down to fondle his ass as Aramis delves fingers through his thick hair, the pair of them lying on their sides pressed chest to chest.

 

“Good to see you have joined us,” Aramis says, barely sparing Porthos a glance as he moves to kiss Athos’ jaw. Porthos smiles, pulling up a chair as the languid display already has a hot flush rushing through him. He hadn’t spent much time in their company of late, having been occupied with Alice and the daydream of something different.

 

“Just in time it seems”

 

“Well, with your absence we have had to occupy ourselves” Athos counters, hooded eyes fixing on him as he tilts his head back, throat exposed to Aramis’ mouth. Porthos watches the movement, watches Aramis’ lips as he travels from jaw down to the dip of collarbones, catching the salt of sweat on his tongue. It’s fascinating, especially when Porthos knows just how that mouth can wreck a man.

 

“Is that so?”

 

“Oh Porthos” Aramis says leaning back with his fingers tightening in Athos’ hair, looking at said man’s parted lips with a look that is almost predatory. “How you have missed out passing the slow summer nights in our company. We have been busy have we not Athos?”

 

“We have”

 

“Well maybe you should show me what I’ve missed.” The pair of them look at him. They look sinful with the neck of their shirts unlaced, legs tangled together, Aramis looking like a devil disguised as the sweetest of angels. Athos tilts his head to the side, curious eyes turning indulgent.

 

“What would you like to see first?” Athos breaks the silence. Porthos considers it for a moment of mock deliberation.

 

“How you undressed first.”

 

The pair kneel facing each other on the bed as Porthos settles back into the chair, spreading his legs out with fingers laced on his chest, head resting on the chair back. The two resume kissing, Aramis’ hand curved around Athos’ jaw, tongue already pushed deep into his mouth. Porthos watches with keen interest like he has many times before, tracing the movements as Aramis slides his hand to the front of Athos’ trousers, rubbing his palm in slow strokes. Athos sighs and rocks forward, breaking his usual silence in favour of putting on a show, which is rare to say the least.

 

Aramis has always possessed a grace to these actions, excelling in his element with all the knowledge of where to place his hands when. He can play Athos like a finely tuned instrument, and on occasion has broken down their usually silence and composed partner into a shaking mess of begs and cries. The hand not engaged in cupping Athos moves to pull the shirt collar over one shoulder, sucking a red mark into the skin as his fingers travel down the sternum to navel to shirt hem, hitching up the fabric to slide beneath.

 

Athos helps pull the shirt off, casting it aside carelessly, shifting from his knees to allowing Aramis to push forward into the space between his legs. Aramis follows, stripping off his own shirt and making sure to move slowly, stretching and elongating the lines and muscle of his torso, shaking his hair out and letting the fabric slip from his fingers. He looks at Porthos, one eyebrow raised as either a question or a challenge. Porthos attempts to remain passive, schooling his features to hide the effect the display is having, but Aramis smiles nonetheless.

 

“Shall we show Porthos what we did the other night?” Aramis says, looking down at Athos, who nods and starts to move down the bed on his back. Aramis spreads his legs apart, fingers working on the lacings with the other hand braced against the wall.

 

Athos’ hand pull apart the undone trousers, pushing down the fabric to around Aramis’ knees, the small clothes quickly following. Athos shifts, legs bent at the knees with hands curved over Aramis’ thighs, face to face with Aramis’ erection. He leans up to suckle on the head, tonguing the slit.

 

When they had started Athos had very little experience. As far as they knew he had only ever slept with one woman in his life and never with a man, although he once told them he had a brief intimate relationship with his first mans servant at age sixteen, but how far that went he did not divulge. It had been a struggle to work around all the issues surrounding the topic. With them, Athos had been willing to learn and an enthusiastic student, taking on board all their suggestions until he had it down to a fine art. No longer did Athos choke even when Porthos thrust into his mouth, had learnt to relax quickly when being fingered open and fucked.

 

Now, Athos displays complete trust when he sinks back against the mattress and lets Aramis sink slowly down into his mouth, hands digging into the thick muscle of his thighs. It requires absolute faith in the other, as the one pressed into the bed is almost powerless, the response gauged by the fingers pressing into his skin and Porthos’ eyes widen, spreading his legs further apart. This is new. Aramis moans, keeping his thrusts slow and shallow for the time being. Athos’ face is blocked by Aramis’ leg, but Porthos knows what he looks like, lips stretched around a cock, a pink flush high on his cheeks as his tongue works against the sensitive veins.

 

“Oh Porthos you have no idea how good this is.” Aramis groans, mouth opening as he starts to pant, head resting on his arm to look at Porthos. “Such a good mouth, he’s learnt so much.”

 

“Maybe you should fuck his mouth then” Porthos says, voice rough. Aramis drops his head between his arms to look down. He pulls out so only the head is resting inside Athos’ mouth.

 

“Athos, tap twice if that’s okay and once if it is not” The hand on Aramis’ thigh taps twice in quick succession, a muffled moan hitting Porthos’ ears. 

 

Aramis moans, drawing back out of Athos’ mouth to allow the man to breath for a moment, before plunging back in hard and fast. Athos takes his cock down to the hilt, pressed up against his groin. Athos clings to Aramis, arm moving to circling around his hips and swallowing around the hot flesh in his mouth.

 

Porthos strips off his jacket and armour, too hot to remain inside the stifling fabric. The garments fall with a heavy thud. Now rid of his clothes, Porthos climbs up onto the bed behind the pair, falling to sit besides them, back against the wall. Aramis looks at him, muscles flexing as he drives his hips back and forward. He’s a beautiful sight, eyes glazed with pleasure, moaning loud and freely as if to remain quiet would somehow be doing the act wrong. So beautiful, with dark curls falling in disarray, smile remaining charming no matter what.

 

They kiss, Porthos lunging forward to capture Aramis’ mouth in a heady tangle of tongues. Kissing Aramis has always been a joy. Porthos pulls back with a smack of the lips, looking down at Athos, who lies with his eyes closed and mouth stretched wide. Porthos reaches for one of his hands, their fingers lacing together against Aramis’ hip.

 

“Do you like taking Aramis’ cock like this Athos? Do you like letting him use you?” Porthos drawls, knowing exactly what to say when Athos is like this, soft and malleable to their demand. It’s met with two taps, followed by a whimper.

 

“You see what you miss” Aramis teases, a moan breaking the sentence midway as Athos works his lips around the cock sliding in and out his mouth.

 

“You’re one to talk” Porthos counters, a heavy hand resting on Aramis’ ass.

 

“At least I make up for it.”

 

“Then allow me to return the favour.” Porthos leans over Aramis’ back, reaching for the vial of oil ready on the bedside table.

 

 He pours a generous amount on his fingers  and slides them down Aramis’ cleft. It’s met with a hiss and hips moving up into the touch, drawing completely out of Athos’ mouth. Spreading the oil around his entrance, Porthos pours more onto his fingers before pushing one inside, making Aramis’ back bow  and head drop forward.

 

“You certainly know how to make up for it” Aramis says between gritted teeth, adjusting to the finger inside him before rocking back.

 

“An admirable skill” Athos finally speaks, head having rolled to one side to watch Porthos in a moment of respite. “I have never met a man so good with his fingers”

 

“Tell me about it” Aramis groans, allowing a second finger to be pushed inside. “Your fingers are almost as good as your cock Porthos”

 

Porthos laughs moving his fingers in a steady rhythm, twisting to stroke that spot that makes Aramis’ limb quake with Spanish obscenities pouring out his mouth. Of all the languages to fall back on , it just had to be that one.

 

“Would you like my cock?”

 

“Do you really have to ask that question?”

 

They kiss again as the fingers withdraw, Aramis whining into Porthos’ mouth. He bites down on his bottom lip, worrying it until it’s red and swollen and inviting.  Hands quickly shed the remaining clothes, flinging them as far as possible across the room. Porthos moves away, straddling Athos’ chest to nestling in close against Aramis’ ass. More oil is needed, making it easy and slick before pushing forward.

 

Aramis’ body is a perfect formation of lines, curves and muscles, skin always warm and textured with scar tissue and body hair. If poets or artists were to fall in love with Aramis he would be immortalised in their works, their words outlining the softness of his soul, their paints capturing the depth of his dark eyes.  He’s tight around Porthos’ cock and the moan that rattles through his body is music to his ears.

 

“You alright?” Porthos rasps, sinking teeth into the shoulder he’s half leaning against. Aramis nods, too lost for words, and rocks back as a sign of encouragement. Porthos pulls almost entirely out and thrusting back in again hard, starting up the firm motion. Aramis doesn’t like to get fucked as hard as Athos does, but it doesn’t matter, they all have the ability to control themselves to match each other’s preference. They respect and trust and give in return for the love they share.

 

Hands come up to curve up above the bend of Porthos’ knee, sliding over the hot taunt skin up to his ass. Athos bucks helplessly into the air, aroused by their noises and straining against his small clothes. He presses kisses into Aramis’ hip, mouthing at the skin and bringing red bruises to the surface. The hands on Porthos act as an anchor, the touch forming a reassurance.

 

Porthos wraps a strong arm around Aramis’ waist, keeping him from pressing too much into Athos. The tiny space lets Athos wrap one hand around the base and lick along the sides of Aramis’ cock, turning his head from side to side. He takes it back into his mouth, taking comfort in the sucking motion and relaxing back against the bed, letting Porthos govern the movement with his thrusts.

 

Aramis is a mess of Spanish cursing, broken sounds and shaking limbs, fingers scrabbling at the wall to gain purchase. The others keep him from falling forward, theirs hands clinging and pushing, hard enough to leave the little round fingers bruises that he loves so much. Later he’ll preen and stretch, running his fingers over the marks and sighing with pleasure.

 

“Missed you” Aramis manages to mumble, baring his neck to be kissed. It strikes a cord deep in Porthos’ heart, to hear the desperation and the genuine tone. They hadn’t been parted; not truly, they had been together everyday in the garrison. Yet it was not the same, the three of them had not been together intimately for a long time, for every time that one of them came back another would become distant, the process repeating until this moment.

 

“Missed you to, both of you.” Porthos returns against Aramis’ skin, longing to touch Athos properly as Aramis turns his head to kiss him. But a hand reaches up and taps two beats against his legs and Porthos smiles into the kiss, feeling a laugh of fond affection swelling in his chest. The laughter catches Aramis also, who drops his head and laughs with a joy that is being passed from Porthos to him.

 

Athos uses the slow in pace to draw breath, opting to suck on the side instead, adjusting his legs so that their thighs are pressed together back to front.  Aramis bucks forward, voice cracking as he warns about his climax. Porthos delivered three more deep but not hard thrusts, then feels the passage clench around him as Aramis tenses with release, crying out a jumble of both their names.

 

Porthos pulls out when Aramis goes limp, keeping his arms tight as he draws Aramis off of Athos and down to lie on the bed besides them. He’s blinking lazily, glancing at Athos with a smile and taking his hand to press kisses to the knuckles.

 

“You are in quite a state,” Aramis laughs. Porthos looks down at Athos, who he straddles just below the ribs, and smiles. Athos, whose face scrunches up as he wipes come out of his eyelashes, is coated with Aramis’ release. The white fluid streaking across his cheek and chin, glistening on his swollen lips and it’s delicious to look at, so much so that it has Porthos’ cock jerking.

 

“Whose fault is that?” Athos remarks, bucking into the air again as if trying to draw attention to his predicament, but it goes ignored.

 

“It is your best state to be in.” Porthos adds, fisting a hand around his own cock and moving in a fast jerking motion. It’s commonplace for Athos to end up covered in their mess when all three of them are together, initially by silent request and now by habit. They have always been able to read Athos well, have been perfectly in tune with all the desires he cannot bring himself to ask for vocally.

 

“Is this okay?” However, reassurance is always necessary

 

The corner of Athos’ mouth quirks upward and he replies by placing his hand over Porthos’ and helping to jerk him off. Athos places his thumb over the slit, rubbing in small circles and spreading precome over the digit. When he places the slicked thumb between his lips and sucks noisily, Porthos swears that Athos will be the death of him. It even has Aramis groaning, who having recovered, is now propped up by one elbow and observing the show.

 

A coil has been tightening inside him since walking into the room, sweat rolling over his shoulder and down his back. Porthos pulls and twists, the muscle of his thigh twitching. Athos reaches to fondle his balls, squirming with want and anticipation as he rolls them in his palm. Aramis sighs, shifting to press a kiss against an old scar on Porthos’ waist and worrying his teeth around it.

 

The combine sensation of all three of them working toward climax as that coil tightening and releasing. Porthos barks out a shout, head dropping forward against his chest. The come shoots out over Athos, hitting him beneath the jaw and down the throat, droplets sitting in the pools of his collarbones and sternum. It mixes with Aramis’ release, which is cooling in a sticky mess against his skin.

 

“You’re doing so well.” Aramis says into Athos’ ear, who keens and bucks, unable to reach around to his cock.

 

Porthos take pity, knowing the other will be near breaking part and will only need to smallest of touches to find relief. But he feels that he deserves more, so quickly he unlaces the small clothes and pulls them apart, not bothering to shove them off. Athos’ cock is flushed and hard, curving up towards his belly. Glancing up, he sees Aramis leaning over to kiss Athos fully, licking into his mouth and rubbing fingers over the come on Athos’ neck, spreading it over his throat like some barely visible mark.

 

Ducking down, Porthos takes the cock into his mouth and sinks straight down. It receives a shout of surprise, Athos’ body arching off the bed, feet locking against the small of Porthos’ back. As predicted it doesn’t take long, a few sharp sucks, tongue rubbing against the underside.

 

Athos has been left pent up without touch for so long that his body had no endurance left, he needed it now and couldn’t hold back any longer. He comes with a choked sound, a hand flying up to cover his eyes in an action of overwhelmed desperation. Porthos swallows the warm fluid, suckling lightly on the cock in his mouth until it turns soft in his mouth and Athos is gasping and squirming with over sensitivity.

 

Pulling away Porthos flops between them. Aramis is already up, padding across the room to wet a cloth in a basin of water. He comes to sit next to Athos on the edge of the bed, drawing the dampness across his skin and cleaning up the mess. The room is full of a sticky summer heat and a heady smell that is so intoxicating is has Porthos feeling dazed. He watches the tender action unfolding, Aramis sinking back into his caring nature with soft touch and fond smiles.

 

Porthos draws patterns on Athos’ stomach, providing comfort and helping to bring their very dazed leader back into the room. It’s slow and content and allows a moment of reflection. Porthos thinks of them, his two closest companions. He had not lied when he considered a life outside the musketeers, a life of marriage and a new adventure with Alice at his side. But he had also been truthful when he said he could never give up soldiery, could never give up the excitement and the kinship. A part of him wondered if he could truly give up this; give up lying with Athos and Aramis on summer nights, curved towards one another, skin pressed against skin. The idea seemed alien to him.

 

“I can hear you thinking.” The familiar slow drawl of Athos’ deep voice breaks through the train of thought. Porthos blinks, notices the two men now looking at him with a mixture of question and affection. He wonders if he should tell them, but that is a time now past, a dream that will not be realised and perhaps that is for the better.

 

“Thinking about maybe going to the tavern.” Porthos says with a smile, which is met with a snort from Athos and a huff of laughter from Aramis.

 

“I suspect d’Artagnan’s celebration late into tomorrow night, what with tomorrow being his first official day as a musketeer. We will join him of course” Athos assures. 

 

“He’ll be strutting around like one of the king's peacocks with that shoulder piece. It’ll be worse than Aramis.”

 

“All men who have the ability to flaunt should do so lest their talents be wasted.” Aramis counters, wriggling into the middle of the three of them as he always does, having never taken comfort lying on the edge.

 

Porthos snort, drawing Aramis against him and throwing an arm over to curve against Athos’ chest. Dreams for the future may continue, but for now, there are small dreams that have already been realised.

**Author's Note:**

> [tumblr](http://athoses.tumblr.com/)


End file.
